


Like a Phoenix

by saisailove



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Animal Death, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Stan is only mentioned in passing, except not really, no one actually dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 06:19:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7033138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saisailove/pseuds/saisailove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stanford Pines was trekking through the Venlurian desert, the sea-blue dunes of sand spreading far out beyond the blood red horizon, when he first met the creature.</p><p>It was a cat. Or, more specifically, a creature that looked remarkably like a cat. Ford knew it couldn’t be a cat, since none existed beyond his Earthly dimension, but it was the closest approximation he could come up with. It’s only been a few years since he fell into the portal, and he was still learning about the different kinds of species each new dimension he entered had to offer.</p><p>The cat-like creature seemed to appear out of nowhere. It had a dark brown coat and brown eyes, which completely contrasted against the blue sand that surrounded them both. It had some sort of red markings on its back, and a crooked tail. Aside from the markings, however, it looked just like a regular Earth cat.</p><p>It was also following him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like a Phoenix

Stanford Pines was trekking through the Venlurian desert, the sea-blue dunes of sand spreading far out beyond the blood red horizon, when he first met the creature.

It was a cat. Or, more specifically, a creature that looked remarkably _like_ a cat. Ford knew it couldn’t be a cat, since none existed beyond his Earthly dimension, but it was the closest approximation he could come up with. It’s only been a few years since he fell into the portal, and he was still learning about the different kinds of species each new dimension he entered had to offer.

The cat-like creature seemed to appear out of nowhere. It had a dark brown coat and brown eyes, which completely contrasted against the blue sand that surrounded them both. It had some sort of red markings on its back, and a crooked tail. Aside from the markings, however, it looked just like a regular Earth cat.

It was also following him.

Ford had no idea what to do about it. It felt too harsh to try and shoo the creature away, and yet he knew he had nothing substantial to offer it. Ford barely had enough food for himself, just a few energy pills that substituted food in case of emergencies. And yet, despite Ford ignoring it, the creature continued to follow him.

There was no civilization in sight. Just blue dunes as far as the eyes could see, and the three suns in the distance were almost below the horizon. There was no telling what might show up in the middle of the night in this foreign desert. It was time to make camp, and set up precautionary protections against the unknown (especially with Bill’s men after him).

After setting up his traps and wards, Ford finally let himself relax in his small camp. He sat down in front of his Pyro Sphere (A small ball that contained concentrated fire inside, which functioned just as well as a campfire. It was much safer than making an _actual_ fire, with all the smoke associated), and as soon as Ford’s legs were crossed, the creature jumped onto his lap and made itself comfortable.

Ford paused.

He stared down at the creature, which was already sleeping peacefully. Ford’s breath stilled, and he made no movements as the creature continued to rest in his lap.

Slowly, he moved his hands towards it. He hesitated for a moment, but gently brought his hand down and began to pet the creature. Just like a cat, it purred, and leaned into his touch.

He kept petting the creature long into the night, until he joined it in slumber.

* * *

 

Ford woke up, and the creature was gone. He felt a twinge of sadness, but pushed it aside. It’s not like he could’ve kept it, since he could barely take care of himself nowadays. He gathered up his stuff and continued on his journey through the sea-blue desert.

It was several months later when he saw the cat-creature again. He was eating at some alien-like diner, which reminded him of the 50’s style diner Stanley used to go dance at. He took a bite out of his purple and green burger-hotdog- _thing_. As he chewed, he suddenly felt a weight on his lap and looked down.

Only to meet the deep brown eyes of the creature.

He nearly yelped, but the food in his mouth kept him from making too much noise. The creature continued to stare at him, tilting its head to the side, as if waiting for him to do something. Ford gulped down his food, and stared back.

A light bulb went off in his head.

_Oh._

He ripped a piece of meat (or, something that _looked_ like meat) from his meal and offered it to the creature. It gratefully took it into its mouth and chewed, showing off razor sharp teeth in the process. This continued on for a while—Ford eating his food, and offering pieces of it to the cat-like creature.

Finally, the food was gone and Ford paid for his meal. The creature followed him out the door, and it occurred to Ford that this iner didn’t seem to have any rules against strays or pets. The creature jumped into his arms as he walked, and he idly scratched its head.

He stopped in his tracks. The creature stared up at him, wondering why the scratching stopped.

He was already thinking of this creature as his pet.

Shit.

He didn’t have that kind of money to take care of a pet. He honestly didn’t—as a wanted man, he was often running around dimensions, hiding out and making sure he wasn’t seen by Bill’s henchmen. All that took a lot of energy and work, and having a pet in that kind of lifestyle was no guarantee of anything good.

With a heavy heart, he realized that he had to let the creature go. It would only suffer with him.

He sadly lowered it to the ground, and walked away. It didn’t follow him this time.

* * *

 

Ford was hiding behind a rock, tying a piece of cloth over a wound on his arm. He just managed to escape being caught by one of Bill’s henchman, and he was hiding out in a cave until he was sure it was safe. As he finished tying the cloth, he felt something get on his lap.

With startled eyes, he looked down, and two sets of deep brown eyes met.

The creature was back.

Ford wasn’t sure how it kept finding him across the multiverse—he wasn’t anywhere _near_ the last two dimensions he last saw it in—but a sound from around the corner caught his attention and he quickly grabbed the creature to his chest with his good arm and held himself still, pushing himself further against the purple rocks.

He heard voices come closer, and was ready to reach for his blaster, but the voices slowly died down, until finally, they left completely. Ford held still for longer, however; it wouldn’t be the first time Bill’s men tried to trick Ford out of hiding by giving him false reassurances. But the cave was completely silent, and Ford slowly let his guard down.

Ford felt something vibrate against him, and he finally noticed that the creature was purring into his chest.

He felt himself smile, despite the circumstances. The little creature had no sense of danger or understanding of the situation. All it seemed to care about was Ford giving it affection.

He let the creature down onto his lap and continued to pet it, lightly rubbing his fingers against the red markings that lined its back. It rubbed its head against his hand, and curled in on itself, making itself comfortable. He continued to pet the creature, long after it had dozed off.

It was a welcome distraction.

* * *

 

The creature reminded Ford of someone, but he couldn’t figure out who it was. He idly gave it some meat that was roasting by the Pyro Sphere, and it lightly nibbled from Ford’s hand, razor sharp teeth completely harmless. He pet the creature’s ears back as it continued to chew.

It continued to follow Ford around, somehow always finding him, no matter how far he traveled. It was a truly remarkable creature, and it clearly attached itself to him. Ford had no idea how it managed to traverse the multiverse without so much as a scratch, but it did—always making its way back to him.

Ford lightly rubbed a hand against the stubble on his chin as the creature nibbled on more food. It’s been a while since he last shaved, though it was rare he was able to find the time, or have the safety, to be able to do so. However, now seemed like a good opportunity, and he grabbed a small mirror and razor from his pack.

As he looked in the mirror, the creature headbutted his way right in front of it, and both Ford and the creature were reflected on the surface.

It was then that Ford realized who the creature reminded him of.

He stared at the familiar brown eyes, his own, and the deep brown eyes of the creature. He looked at the color of its fur, the same color as Ford’s own hair. And the red markings on its back—it was the same shade of red that only one person that Ford knew wore.

Stanley. The creature reminded him of _Stanley_.

The revelation hit him full force, and he barely noticed when he shaved, or ate, or went to bed. It was as if he was in a daze–everything was a blur, and as he shut his eyes, the only thing he registered was the weight of the creature against his chest.

* * *

 

Ford began referring to the creature as Stan.

He didn’t know when, exactly, it started, but it must’ve been sometime after he realized who the creature reminded him of.

Stan continued to follow him through the multiverse, hiding with him, and sharing food with him. Ford all but had a pet now, though Stan felt less like a pet and more like a companion.

It was painful to call it Stan, because it brought up a whole _host_ of bad memories and complicated emotions, and yet no other name seemed to fit it. Stan brought Ford comfort in some of his darkest hours here, so far away from home, and he gave him companionship that he so desired, and yet was forced to never have, thanks to Bill and his friends.

(Ford still had no idea what gender Stan was, but he never gave it much thought. Gender never meant much to him anyway. However, he found himself referring to the creature as “he,” simply because of its relation to Stan in Ford’s mind.)

Ford’s relationship with Stan continued on for years. Stan would disappear for days, weeks, or months at a time—sometimes for as long as a year or two, and at first Ford was worried about his small companion. But Stan always came back. No matter how much time passed, the little cat-creature always found his way back to Ford, safe and sound. He was a constant in Ford’s ever changing life in this hellscape of Bill’s, and he was a welcome comfort. He was the closest thing to home Ford had.

Ford felt content with Stan, as he rested against his knee. As he pet Stan, he pulled out a photo—of Ford and Stanley, back when they were young and full of dreams to sail the world. On a whim, he lowered the photo for Stan to see, and was amused to see him look between the two twins before laying a paw on young Ford. He supposed the glasses tipped him off.

Ford returned the photo back to its safe place against his chest, and began to nod off. Before he fell asleep, he felt Stan jump onto his lap and curl up into a little ball, happily purring.

He was content.

* * *

 

He was sobbing.

Bill’s henchmen found him. It was an ambush, and Ford was totally unprepared for it. He let his guard down too much, he didn’t put up enough wards and guards, his precautions were faulty—He was almost struck in the chest by a blast from one of the henchmen while he was unawares, but Stan noticed. He jumped in the way of the blast, protecting Ford from the hit, and skid against the ground, unmoving.

Ford had just enough of his senses left to retaliate. He managed to hold them off long enough so he could grab his things and run—carrying Stan’s still body with him, cradled against his chest.

He ran until he was sure he found a place safe from Bill’s men. His chest hurt with every breath, and his legs ached, but he paid them no mind. His full attention was on the small creature he held.

Stan saved his life. He saved his life, at the cost of his own. There was no beating against Stan’s chest, no small breaths, or purring, or rubbing heads. Stan was completely still. Stan was… Ford didn’t even want to think the word. He gulped, tears pouring down his cheeks.

Stan was _dead_.

And it was _all his fault._

Ford cried into the small body, which was still warm—which made him sob all the harder. Stan had lasted _years_ without getting hurt, somehow traversing the multiverse without a single scratch, and it was _Ford_ who finally broke that luck. It was _Ford_ who finally caused his death.

He knew it was technically Bill’s men that pulled the trigger, and yet Ford knew it was really his fault. If he had paid closer attention to his surroundings, if he had put up stronger wards and traps, if he noticed the men coming sooner, then Stan would—Stan would still be—

He sobbed long into the night.

* * *

 

Ford buried Stan under a tree, small and modest with its white flowers and maroon trunk. He wasn’t the religious type, but as he placed a small marker above the grave, he offered a short prayer for his close companion.

The regret and guilt of that day haunted him for months after. He could hardly go anywhere without lightly wondering to himself where Stan was—before remembering the sad truth. It was awful. He found himself double and triple checking his wards, whenever he should stop for camp. He felt himself become more and more paranoid over those months than he had been for the years beforehand. It was a constant cycle of sadness, regret, and paranoia.

Finally, Ford ran out of food, and had to make his way to a diner. It was similar to the diner he first shared food with—he stopped that thought in its tracks. The diner was in the backwater of this dimension, out of the way of Bill’s wanted posters and propaganda. It was a small, welcome relief.

As he sat and ate his orange and florescent pink sandwich, he felt a weight move onto his lap. Thoughtlessly, he reached his hand down and began to scratch behind the ears of a small, furry head, mindlessly offering pieces of his meal to the awaiting creature.

It took him several minutes before something clicked in his head, and he felt himself freeze—he didn’t dare to breathe. Slowly, he looked down at his lap.

And met a familiar pair of deep brown eyes.

Ford yelped, and scuttled over to the edge of the booth, falling straight out on his butt. The deep brown eyes continued to watch him from the booth.

His outburst grabbed the attention of several other customers and waiters in the diner, and he quickly scrambled to his feet and back into the booth—on the opposite side of the creature. The one that was supposed to be _dead_.

A waitress walked over to them.

“You okay, hun?” She asked, tentacles on her waist, in a fashion similar to having one’s hands on their hips.

“Y-yes.” Ford stuttered out, still in shock. He shook his head. “I’m—I’m sorry, this may seem like a silly question, but may I ask you something?”

“Sure, sweetie.” Came the nonchalant reply.

Ford pointed to the cat-creature on the other side of the booth, and asked, “Could—could you tell me what that is? What kind of creature it is?”

She looked at the small, brown creature with a critical eye (she only had one), and gave it a once over. She turned back to Ford. “It’s a Phoenix Cat, hun. What about it is scarin’ ya?”

Ford sucked in his breathe. He opened his mouth to answer. “Do—do they routinely come back to life?” He felt silly for asking, yet he dared not get his hopes up.

She gave him a look. “Yeah. That’s what they’re known for, ya know. Hence the ‘Phoenix’ in their name. Is that all?”

Ford nodded, and she left.

He stared at the creature with wide, round eyes, his breath hitched. The creature stared back. A long moment of silence sat between them. Until—

“Stan… is, is that you?” Ford asked, tentatively, hesitantly, because there’s no way that could be Stan, there’s just no way, and yet, maybe, just maybe–

He was rewarded with a familiar weight on his lap, and a head rubbing against his hand.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure where this idea came from, but it hit me like a bus and I kinda ran with it, haha. There ended up being a lot of fire imagery in this piece, which wasn't intentional, but it sorta worked with the theme of the fic. I was gonna make this much angstier, but i just couldn't do that to poor ford. Anyways, I hope you liked this!!


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